DEW-DROPS. 




BY D. S. PENNELL. 



FOR SALE BY JACOB SMEDLEY : 

304 ARCH STREET, PHILADELPHIA. 




2 

14 

47 



% 



WILLIAM H. PILE, 
PRINTER. 



PREFACE 



In presenting this little volume to the public, the 

author does not claim for it great poetical merit or 

brilliancy of thought. The pieces are of a quiet, 

domestic character, and cover a term of years — the 

greater number of them having from time to time 

appeared in the columns of "The Friend." Others 

are now published for the first time. If to any they 

speak cheer or comfort, or if they strengthen the 

desire to walk in the way that leadeth unto the 

Celestial City, their publication will not have been 

in vain. 

D. S. P. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

To the Dew-Drop, ..... 9 

Lines, for Class of W. B. S., . . . 11 

The Better Part, ..... 15 

Gone, ...... 18 

Mysteries, ...... 20 

Under the Willows, .... 25 

Faint Yet Pursuing, .... 28 

Musings, . . . . . . 33 

Change, ...... 36 

Autumnal Thoughts, .... 39 

Spring Breathings, ..... 43 

To E. S. in Affliction, ... 47 

Lines; When to Visit in the Country, . . 50 

The Woodland Path, .... 53 

Life's Changes, ..... 55 

Nepenthe, ...... 59 

The Song of the Sunbeam, . . . 63 

Another Year, ..... 67 



VI 



CONTENTS. 





TAGE. 


"Am I My Brother's Keeper?" . 


70 


Rainy Days, ..... 


72 


Parting, ...... 


75 


My Childhood's Home, 


78 


Morning, ...... 


82 


Our Hills, ...... 


84 


Lines, on Senator Revels' Speech, 


86 


Indian Summer, ..... 


88 


Drifting, ...... 


90 


To the Memory of Charles Evans, . 


93 


Our Birthright, ..... 


95 


Lines, on Reading Marriage Certificate, . 


97 


Blossoms, ...... 


100 


Our Meeting, ..... 


102 


A Memory, . . . . . . 


105 


One Year Ago, ..... 


108 


By the Sea, ...... 


110 


The Cricket's Song, .... 


114 


Birthday Lines to a Friend, 


117 


Thanksgiving, ..... 


120 


Sunrise and Sunset, ..... 


122 


Questionings, ..... 


124 


To the Memory of our Beloved Friend, L. W. S., 


128 


The Pathway in the Sky. 


130 



DEW-DROPS 



TO THE DEW-DROP. 

fPIRIT of beauty ! that with radiant beam, 
Hangest a pendant on yon blade of grass, 
My heart rejoices in thy silvery gleam, 

And wafts its homage to thee as I pass ; 
Frailest yet purest of the works that teem 

The wide world over in one boundless mass — 
Works that speak ever in the praise of Him, 
Beside whose glory, noonday's glare were dim. 

Not when the light of day w r as over earth, 
Began thy brilliant, brief existence here; 

Nor yet did night of clouds behold thy birth, 

Nor wild winds chant their mournful dirges near. 

Thou lovest not e'en the echoing gales of mirth, 
That sweep too rudely in their mad career, 



10 DEW-DROPS. 

Rousing the forest with their many wiles, 

And sounding anthems down its grand old aisles. 

But when soft airs are whisp'ring through the leaves, 
And twilight shadows deepen into night, 

Thou spring'st in being, and thy bosom heaves, 
Beneath the glimmer of the pale moonlight ; 

Or stars alone their myriad beams may weave, 
And send from their far-off majestic height, 

To gladden thy still dawning ; and to see 

Their bright forms faintly imaged back in thee. 

How nature glows, revived beneath thy power, 

Silent awakener of its drooping life. 
How like to this, the love of God to our 

Faint, weary spirits in this mortal strife ; 
When great the " heat and burden" of the hour, 

Like thy cool drops, with balmy freshness rife, 
It steals into the heart, dispelling gloom, 
Causing life's aloe to expand in bloom. 

And like to thee, the " still small voice" within, 
Which chooses not the hour of passion's sway, 

When souls are revelling in guilt and sin, 

To breathe its gentle warning : when the day 



DEW-DROPS. 11 

Of tumult has subsided, and the din 

Gives place unto night's calm reflecting ray, 
That spirit-voice may oft distinct be heard 
Whisp'ring the mandate of God's holy word. 

But as I gaze thy brilliancy has fled, 

A swift dissolving and thou art no more : 

Perchance in some light cloud o'er Heaven spread 
We yet may see thee softly sailing o'er. 

So joys departed, hopes forever dead, 

Oft change to higher, holier than before; 

And all through life, below, around, above, 

We mark the o'er-shadowings of Boundless Love. 



LINES. 

RECITED BY THE GRADUATING CLASS OF W. B. S., 
NINTH MO. 1863. 

^NCE more we stand in the accustomed places, 
X Once more our voices echo in these halls, 
Once more we gaze on the familiar faces. 

While o'er us now a dark'ning shadow falls, 
As the fond light of memory recalls 



12 DEW- DROPS. 

Scenes of past joy, that o'er our spirits swell 
In tides resistless, and our hearts enthrall 
In deepest gloom ; and more than tongue can tell 
We feel, to utter thus, the mournful word, farewell! 

Yet we must speak it, though a word so sad, 

Sadder to us than it was e'er before, 
Not e'en the thought of home can make us glad, 

For we shall mingle with you here no more. 

On life's wild ocean, little from the shore 
As yet our barks have sailed ; but now their way 

Must lie beyond, where deaf'ning billows roar. 
And storms may meet us in their maddest play ; 
May we in triumph rise above, nor own their sway ! 

Long have we lingered here in learning's light, 

Gleaning fair truths to serve when youth has fled, 
Sowing the seed while yet our spring is bright, 

And no clouds frown in darkness overhead ; 

May we reap harvests where no blight is shed, 
And, as our lives glide onward to the tomb, 

Find that not vainly have the moments sped. 
But round our pathway the rich fruits are strewn, 
Wearing the golden radiance of the ripened bloom. 



DEW-DROPS. 13 

The future lies before us ; joy and care 

Alike are waiting to attend our way ; 
Oh ! may the lessons we have gathered here 

Teach us thro' joy in gratitude to stay, 

And thank the Father whom the winds obey. 
And when Adversity's chill blast is given, 

May it but tend to win the heart away 
From earth's allurements (frail as clouds at even,) 
And draw us still nearer to our home in Heaven. 

Far different destinies may yet be ours, 

Where the wide prospect opens brightly now — 

The way of one may lie through meads of flowers, 
Another beneath heavy burdens bow. 
The silver trump of Fame for one may blow, 

And one may slumber in an early grave. 

But whatsoe'er Time's passage may bestow, 

Let us look upward, and His blessing crave, 

Whose voice can calm the tempest and can still the 
wave. 

The withered leaves lie rustling 'neath our tread, 
The wailing of the autumn winds we hear, 

A hollow T moan upon their course is shed, 
The mournful cadence of the dying year. 



14 DEW- DEO PS. 

Meet time for those who now are gathered here, 
And long have walked in harmony and love, 

Meet time for these to shed the parting tear, 

And break the silken band which Friendship wove. 

Days may pass onward on the wings of Time, 

Moons wax and wane in the o'erarching sky. 
Stars rise and set in those vast realms sublime, 

Yet nevermore renew 7 this holy tie ; 

But until Memory's beams shall fade and die, 
And reason's day become a clouded night, 

Your names within our hearts shall ever lie 
Fresh and unfading as yon stars of light, 
That centuries dim not in their endless flight. 

And you, who have been beacons in our way, 
To guide us onward in the path of right, 

How often from it we have gone astray, 

And cast a shadow, darker than the night, 

Upon the hearts we should have bathed in light — 

Forgive the sorrows we have made you know, 
Forget the clouds that our best natures blight, 

Upon the brighter side let memory glow 7 , 

Think only of our virtues and all else forego. 



DEW-DROPS. 15 

And now farewell ! your counsels all are o'er, 

Yet those you've tendered not forgot shall be, 
But, fondly cherished in the heart's hid store, 

Shall light our footsteps to eternity. 

And when from earthly bondage we are free, 
May we all mingle where the blest have gone, 

Beyond the dark waves of oblivion's sea, 
Strike golden harps and, gathered round the Throne, 
Unite in singing praise to the Eternal One. 



THE BETTER PART. 

S through life our way is wending, as we meet 
each daily care, 

Wherefore should we, in repining, multiply the troubles 
there ? 

Why not "string the pearls" of gladness, and whatever 
fate betide, 

Cast a glance of deeper interest ever on the brighter 
side? 

From the blackest waste of water on the darkest, star- 
less night, 



16 DEW-DROPS. 

There will flash unto the gazer, some faint gleam of 

silvery light. 
Never yet so cold a winter, but some bird would wave 

its wing ; 
Never noontide heat of summer, but has heard the 

robin sing! 
Though a crushing weight of sorrow bow our spirits to 

the dust, 
Must we therefore in the future, lose for aye our faith 

and trust? 
Surely the almighty Father never wills us to despair, 
And his chastening hand no heavier falleth than our 

souls can bear. 
Cast aside a mood desponding, part the mist that 

gathers o'er! 
Every lightest wave of influence widens to oblivion's 

shore. 
Oh ! 'tis not a lengthened visage, nor a stern and awful 

tone, 
That can draw our wandering footsteps nearer the 

eternal home. 
These may waken awe and reverence but they cannot 

kindle love, 
And they fail the deep emotions of the yearning soul 

to move. 



DEW-DROPS. 17 

Tis the voice of gentle pleading that the human heart 

can sway, 
Stirring strong desires for heaven, longings for the 

better way; 
Teaching by a cheerful spirit that religion's paths are 

peace, 
Pointing with an upward finger to the land where 

strivings cease. 
Wherefore tell us that life's pathway lieth through a 

vale of tears, 
That but transient are the visions that surround our 

early years? 
Though full soon will pass the glowing of youth's 

dawning golden ray, 
Yet there dwelleth noonday shadows, where the morn- 
ing dew-drops stay. 
There are flowers that open only at the stilly eventide, 
And the nightingale is singing when the sounds of day 

have died. 
Why not bid us, as we journey, prize our present 

blessings more? 
Brighten at each gleam of sunlight though a cloud 

may lie before? 
Should we not to duty's calling ever lend a willing ear, 



18 DEW-DROPS. 

Giving unto all around us kindly words and smiles of 

cheer ? 
Let no gloomy lowering shadow o'er the social circle 

fall; 
If one harpstring but be broken, discord will pervade 

them all. 
Offer to the God of being a sincerely grateful heart, 
Brothers, sisters, on life's journey, is not this the better 

part? 



GONE. 

$ MOURNFUL echo on the air is ringing ; 
<jyb The sad iEolian of a requiem lay ; 
For summer round her, her bright veil is flinging, 
And like a dream, is passing hence away. 

And are they gone — those days of tropic splendor — 
The balmy morning — and still eventide — 

The long soft twilight hour, so calm and tender, 
Whose chastened shadows o'er the spirit glide? 

Yes ! by the coolness of the northwind, rushing 
Thro' woodlands cheered more rarely by a song, 



DEW-DROPS. 19 

By the bright hectic a chance leaflet flushing, 

We know that summer from our land has gone. 

'Tis ever thus ! the fairest hopes and fancies 
Are first to wither or to prove untrue, 

The brighter shine the dew-drop's morning glances, 
The sooner will it vanish from our view. 

Yet not repiningly we say this, Father ! 

'Tis well the bitter with the sweet should come, 
Else, might we, mid the joys that round us gather, 

Forget that earth is not our lasting home. 

Forget that life is not for ease nor pleasure, 

And that full soon will fall our time's last sand : 

Forget the need to lay up hidden treasure 
In the wide coffers of the Better Land. 

And though we mourn the fading buds of beauty, 
As one by one they perish and depart, 

May it remind us of that holy duty — 

To keep alive the flowerets of the heart. 

If, as we ponder the past season over, 

Neglect and error to the mind are borne, — 

If dim the spirit-light — and we discover 
Heaven no nearer as the days go on, 



20 DEW-DROPS. 

Let us awaken to renewed endeavor, 
A higher hope and purer life to win ; 

And through the wintry hour cast round us ever 
A ray of gladness from the peace within. 

Should spring buds, waking from their icy slumber, 
Find us no longer in the paths we trod, 

May dawn upon us the eternal summer, 

Bright with the glory of the living God ! 



MYSTERIES. 

■ P HERE the dark forest sends a solemn murmur 
^if*^ Up to the free blue sky ; 

Where wild-wood flowers are breaking their long 
slumber, 

As Spring's soft air floats by ; 

Far where the pearl and coral wreath are lying 

Low in the ocean wave ; 
Where buried diamonds gild with ray undying 

The deep and secret cave; 



DEW-DROPS. 21 

Up where the stars of morning " sang together," 
When earth's green hills were new, 

Where still, in living light, they roll forever, 
On thro' the boundless blue ; 

All these are fraught with mystery — flower and ocean, 

Forest and hidden mine, 
The stars that nightly burn in pure devotion, 

On Heaven's distant shrine. 

But darker yet the mystic shadow hovers 

The human heart around ; 
We have no ray to pierce the thought of others, 

No line our own to sound ! 

The gale that o'er the streamlet's breast is sweeping, 

May waken ripples there ; 
Beneath, all calmly are the waters sleeping, 

Reached by no breath of air. 

Thus, in our social mingling and exchanging 
Of many a thought and word, 

The surface only of the mind is ranging, 
Below are depths unstirred. 



22 DEW-DROPS. 

The garden's pride, the rose of fairest seeming, 
May hide an inward blight ; 

The flush upon the cheek of beauty beaming, 
Is oft the fever's light. 

The heart most dear, whose strings seem all vibrating 

Responsive to our own, 
As the iEolian lyre's soft sounds awaking 

Echo the breeze's tone, 

Whose joy or sorrow by our own is measured, 
And twined life's threads among, 

Oh ! are there not e'en in that spirit, treasured 
Chords we have never strung ? 

Each soul hath tones whose low and secret ringing 

Falls not on mortal ear ; 
The spirit's anthem, or its wail upspringing, 

Heaven alone can hear. 

'Tis mystery all ! ay, search within, and ponder ; 

Trace thought unto its goal ! 
Bid wild imagination cease to wander ! 

Give form unto the soul ! 



DEW-DROPS. 23 

Tell why a sound, a touch, hath power to waken 

A picture of the past; 
Why, by a breath are oft our natures shaken, 

As leaves in mountain blast; 

From whence come dreams, when gliding softly round us, 

The long departed rise ; 
When almost severed seems the cord that bound us, 

And broken, earth's frail ties ! 

'Tis vain ! no answer breaks the solemn quiet ; 

Vain is all human lore; 
" Thus far, no farther," sounds the Almighty fiat ; 

We live, but know no more. 

Yet there are moments when the soul is nearing 

Higher and holier things, 
When bending low, the ear of Faith is hearing 

The rush of spirit wings ; 

And fainter, tho' most clear, from the heart's portal 
A " still small voice" is heard, 

Breathing a cadence from the land immortal — 
From God, a hallowed word. 



24 DEW-DROPS. 

The season comes when voices soft are calling 

The song-bird to our shore ; 
When brighter gold is with the sunbeam falling ; 

And balmier gales blow o'er. 

Let us go forth when round the brow of nature 

Is twined her blossom crown, 
Learning the lesson 'graved on every feature, 

Whether in smile or frown, 

To walk contented in the brightness given, 

Humbly yet firmly on, 
Until the hour when every cloud is riven, 

And mystic shades are gone. 

Humbly — because no power of ours inherent, 

Bade us here live and stand : 
Firmly — because we feel our strings of being 

Swept by a Mighty Hand : 

Taking each step with care, where clouds are weaving 
Their dark'ning mists before ; 

Remembering ever, we our prints are leaving 
Behind for evermore. 



DEW-DROPS. 25 

Let Faith and Love, in radiant light combining, 

Lead from the verdant sod, 
Up where the glory of the Lamb is shining 

In the Paradise of God. 



UNDER THE WILLOWS. 

CNDER the willows I sit and dream, 
p^ While the sunset's glow thro' their arches stream, 
And the waving leaves, in the softened light, 
Stir with the airs of the coming night. 
And I look above, where they toss on high, 
To the azure dome of the far-off sky ; 
And my thoughts go back thro' the silent years, 
Back thro' their shadowy mists of tears, 
Down dim old aisles where the cloisters vast, 
Throng with the graves of the buried past, 
Till they rest at last where the fountains play 
In the early dawn of life's opening day; 
And childhood's woofs of the purest gold, 
Have woven around me fold on fold, 



26 DEW-DROPS. 

Till olden shrines spread their treasures bright 
Under the willows again to-night. 

Under the willows gay hopes were born ; 
Unmindful was life of its looming storm; 
The future gleamed thro' its starry shroud, 
Like the moonlight pours from a silvery cloud ; 
The morning stars of existence sang, 
And echoes of joy in the distance rang. 
Then the longing heart wooed the coming day 
Which womanhood's crown on this brow should lay- 
That bright elysium that shone before, 
Which the bow of promise was bending o'er, 
Where the buds of life should unfold and twine, 
And earth's fruition of hope be mine. 

The dream is past — and I waken now 

To the sterner clasping around my brow — 

The hour has come, but the flowers have died ; 

The withered wreath the sharp thorns hide. 

I waken now to the real and true, 

To the fuller life we are passing through; 

The glow has gone, and the beacons fade; 

On the fairest scene a spell is laid, 



DEW- DEO PS. 27 

Treasures lie scattered from broken shrines, — 
The wealth of the heart's unfathomed mines, — 
Idols are fallen, and offerings there 
Are a wasted wreck on the altar stair, 
And all the pillars of earthly trust 
Crumble and wither away to dust. 

Under the willows I scan it now — 
The stream of Time on its backward flow, — 
And a thankful breath from my soul goes up 
To the Giver of sweet and of bitter cup, 
That the way was hid, that the seeking eye 
Views not the paths which before it lie. 
Nor would I blot from the record there 
The hours made dark by a wild despair. 
Were it not for these, would we ever know 
The deeper meaning of life below ? 
Were the early dream fulfilled to night, 
Had the years shone but with a joyous light, 
Content in the present the mind had stayed, 
Forgotten the glory that may not fade, 
Dwarfed in its aims the soul had grown 
To grasp at the things of time alone, 
And the worldly path in its pleasure trod 
Never might lead to the home of God. 



28 DEW-DR01 J s. 

Better by far, I can feel and know, 
Than perfecting the wishes of long ago, 
Has the Father done, as He gently broke 
Each fondest hope in my breast that woke. 
In wisdom He rules, and for good alone — 
Our needs are known at the jasper Throne. 
Never in vain unto Him we eall 
Who careth still for the sparrow's fall. 
And a higher hope and a trust more deep, 
Are born of the tears we in sorrow weep, 
And a purer faith in His great design, 
Under the willows to-night is mine. 



FAINT YET PURSUING. 

^LL alone within my chamber, as the darkness 
gathered round, 
And upon the sombre stillness fell no murmur of a 

sound, 
Save the brooklet's rippling cadence, and the sighing 

evening air, 
Sending through the leafy branches a low whisper of 
>air — 



DEW-DROPS. 29 

All alone I sat and pondered on the long and weary 

way, 
Ere the soul could break its bondage — ere its night 

becoineth day. 
Mine had faltered in the journey that it weakly strove 

to run, 
And again, again, had slidden backward where it first 

begun : 
All the late-formed resolutions, that in human strength 

were made, 
On the altar of temptation, early in the strife were 

laid : 
Still unwatchful was the spirit guarding life's besetting 

sin — 
And a deep unconquered shrinking from the cross was 

felt within. 
" 'Tis in vain ! I ne'er shall triumph !" was my heart's 

despairing cry ; 
" Wherefore yet prolong the warfare ? Self will never 

wholly die, — 
And my feet so far have wandered from my Father's 

house astray, 
That in vain they seek to enter and to keep the narrow 

way." 



30 DEW-DROPS. 

Then a low-breatbed whisper falleth softly on mine 
inward ear, 

"Faint not — yield not up the conflict — wherefore 
should'st thou doubt and fear ? 

Though the billows of temptation shall engulf thee, 
o'er and o'er, 

Never cease the mighty struggle till thy feet have 
gained the shore ! 

Daily yet renew the contest, hourly gird thine armor 
on! 

Take thy cross, uplift it boldly, 'tis a weight that must 
be borne. 

If in helplessness thy spirit almost lays its burden 
down, 

Oh ! remember that above thee glitters the rewarding 
crown. 

Strength is only born of weakness, power is not at- 
tained by will, 

At the feet of thy Redeemer thou must be more help- 
less still. 

All the good thou seest round thee, have been tried 
and tempted too, 

Only by renewing effort have they feebly struggled 
through. 



dew-drops: 31 

All that's greatest groweth slowly. As in nature's per- 
fect plan 

Cloud and sun alike are needed, so within the heart of 
man 

Every seedling God hath planted, must receive both 
smile and frown, 

Tears of penitence must water, dews of sorrow bow it 
down, 

Ere a ray of Heaven's sunlight, with its warm, reviv- 
ing power, 

Draweth upward, in the fulness of His own appointed 
hour. 

Take thy high resolves and broken, made alone in 
strength of thine, 

And with will subdued and humbled, lay them tear- 
stained on His shrine. 

Bowing there in lowest meekness, let the breath of prayer 
arise, 

And the God who heareth sinners, thee will hear beyond 
the skies." 

And my fainting soul took courage, and the spirit of 
the air 

Seemed no longer sorrow-haunted by the breathings of 
despair, 



32 DEW-DROPS. 

But a peaceful calm was resting on the silence of my 

room, 
And a slanting moonbeam quivered brightly thro' the 

deepened gloom. 
And to you, my fellow travellers, who are drooping on 

the way, 
I would fain this hope and comfort shed upon your 

hearts to-day. 
Let us not sink down o'er-wearied, for the brink w 7 hereon 

we stand, 
Many pressed, we now are deeming angels in the Better 

Land. 
Even now the trump has sounded and a mighty prophet 

gone, 
One who in Jehovah's army battled valiantly and long, 
Who our Ark of Faith supported with a firmness 

nought could quell; 
All the bulwarks of our Zion trembled when that pillar 

fell.* 
Let us, then, press bravely forward, and a holy voice 

may call 
From our ranks, on whom his mantle may with added 

virtue fall, 
For the great Eternal Father will be magnified o'er all ! 

* Thomas Evans. 



DEW-DROPS. 33 

MUSINGS. 

fITTING alone in the shadow, 
As the hours of twilight wane, 
And the boughs of the weeping willow 
Are drifted against the pane, 

A feeling of sadness holdeth 

My heart in its chilling clasp, 
As I think of the moments passing 

So swiftly beyond our grasp. 

Backward, to-night, is rolling 

The scroll of the Dying Year ; 
And the records stamped forever, 

To memory's glance appear. 

There are joys that came unbidden, 
And hopes that were born to die ; 

There are times of aching sorrow, 

And hours when the heart beat high. 

There are Dead Sea fruits whose fairness 

With ashes mocked the taste ; 
There are scenes whose far off beauty, 

On nearing, proved a waste ; 

4 



34 DEW-DROPS. 

Resolves that soon were broken; 

Regrets that now are vain ; 
And idle dreams and fancies, 

Throng on my view again. 

As one who, leaving forever, 
The scenes of a foreign shore, 

Where long with delight he tarried 
'Mid friends he may greet no more, 

Looks back o'er the curling billows, 
Thro' the haze of the ocean air, 

And ponders each remembrance 
Its vales and mountains bear ; 

So I, on the year receding, 

O'er the crested waves of Time, 
Through the gathering mists of distance, 
Look back to its morning prime. 

And not the gloomiest shadow 
Of its darker actions past, 

Can wholly dim the lustre 
Bv fairer moments cast. 



DEW-DROPS. 35 

For wreaths of home affection 

Upon its bosom glow, 
And Friendship's greener garland, 

Is twined above its brow. 

But has its onward passing, 

With aught of good been fraught ? 

Glows there one better impulse, 
One purer, holier thought ? 

Has there one step, tho' faltering, 

Entered the surer way ? 
Sheddeth the light of Heaven, 

A warmer, brighter ray? 

Oh ! soul of mine ! how lowly 

Thy highest efforts seem ! 
Not one brave wing has fluttered 

Beyond an earthly dream. 

Not by aspiring only, 

Never by faith alone, 
Will the life-strings of our being 

Give forth a nobler tone. 



30 DEW-DROPS. 

The hand of strong endeavor 

Must strike each quivering chord ; 

The willing, sought for Helper 
Must prove temptation's guard. 

A dirge-like note is sounding, 
As the winds go moaning by ; 

And from my heart is breathing 
An unavailing sigh. 

If ever round me falleth 

The New Year's w r aning light, 
Oh ! grant its record, Father, 
Be purer in Thy sight. 



CHANGE. 



o^ 



CHANGE! restless change, in nature's realm is 

reigning — 
Her great, unerring, and eternal law — 
A vast creation is this truth maintaining, 
And from its action life and being draw. 



DEW-DROPS. 37 

The calm, clear brightness of the noontide glowing 
Succeeds the beauty of the morning hour ; 

The softer light of evening's faint bestowing 
Fades in the shadow of night's darker power. 

The airs that fan the ethereal brow of summer 
Soon die in autumn's frost-bespangled hair, — 

The proud old woods, through every sylvan murmur. 
Whisper the changes time has made them bear. 

The clouds that form the embattlements of Heaven, 
Around the arch their varying courses range — 

To the bright army far beyond, is given 

The power of constant, never-ending change. 

Fair hills of earth have risen and descended — 
Cities have sunk beneath the restless wave — 

Man's mighty passions, with all nature blended, 
Through varying phases drift him to the grave. 

The heart hath changes, from its hour of waking 

To all the mystery of being here, 
To that still time w T hen kindred hearts seem breaking 

In grieving sorrow round a burdened bier. 



38 DEW-DROPS. 

Tho' ceaseless dropping wears the rock's hard features, 
We scarce can mark it as we pass along — 

And day by day the impress on our natures, 
We note but little in life's Nvildering throng. 

But why should joys, that strongly once allured us, 
Have lost the glamour that of old they wore ; 

And wherefore do we, thro' the realms of fancy, 
Chase the same phantoms of the brain no more ? 

Tho' brightly round, the wavelets of existence 

Have tossed the sparkling foam of pleasure high, 

From deeper waters and the blue of distance, 
We smile to see them slowly melt and die. 

A wail of sorrow breathed upon the dying, 

A thought from lives inwoven with our own, 

May rouse the spirit in dull bondage lying, 
And waken inward a more thrilling tone. 

Can we not all in glancing back discover 
Some spot unfaded, some remembered day, 

That stands a milestone by the road passed over, 
From whence we bore an older heart away? 



DEW-DROPS. 39 

Ah ! we are changing, surely changing ever, 
We cannot linger, nor be still the same, 

While thought and reason, weakness and endeavor, 
Show forth by action in our mortal frame. 

Farther or nearer still our course is wending, 

The change of heart in God's almighty plan, — 

The new creation, where his Light is sending 
A ray of knowledge to the soul of man. 

When far across the shadowy vale is streaming 
The glimmering radiance of our day's decline, 

O, may that change so glorious and redeeming, 
Sisters and brothers, be both yours and mine ! 



AUTUMNAL THOUGHTS. 

LUE over hill and forest now is drawn 
The Indian summer haze, — 
With slow and pulseless motion stealeth on 
The calm bright autumn days. 



40 DEW- 1) BO PS. 

The flowers are withered by the streamlet's side, 

The bird-notes die away ; 
The woodlands wear, in grand yet mournful pride, 

The hectic of decay. 

And beats the heart in unison with all, — 

The gloom that fastens there 
Is wafted downward with the dead leaves' fall, 

Borne on the still noon air. 

A sadness checks the spirit's wonted flow, 

A melancholy drear ; 
The seasons open and the seasons go, 

And yet we still are here. 

Here for some good, we dimly, faintly trust, 

Still in God's mercy stayed, 
Who ever yet remembereth, of the dust 

Are all his children made ; 

That, like the frost beneath the sunlight's power, 

Melt our resolves away 
Within the fierce heat of temptation's hour, 

And pleasure's world-bright day ; 



DEW-DROPS. 41 

That, as the mist encircling all the hills 

Within its dreamy fold 
Causeth the light that sun or moon distils, 

To fall in paler gold, 

So idle reveries, hovering o'er the mind, 

Lull to a false repose, 
And Heaven's sunbeams but dim entrance find 

Through their delusive glows ; 

And when at last the curtain is uprolled, 

It forms a clou dl and there ; 
And underneath, the branches we behold 

No leaves nor fruitage bear. 

Uncounted ways are ever lying near, 

Kept by the Evil One, 
To draw the heart from out that holy fear 

That leads to peace alone. 

Unnumbered trials in our pathway lie, — 

The myriad cares of life, 
The daily duties we may not go by, 

The crosses and the strife. 



42 DEW-DROPS. 

Though oft at morn we gird us to preserve 

Our nature's brightest crown, 
We find at even that Ave but deserve 

The all-rebuking frown. 

And so the days glide onward to their goal, 

The seasons pass away, 
And other years flow back upon the soul 

With hues of yesterday. 

And like yon leaf we drift adown the tide, 

Nearer the open sea ; 
But how much nearer do our spirits glide, 

Father of Good, to Thee? 

Only from Thee proceeds our shield from harm 
Our strength, our guidance, Thine; 

All, all is weakness, till Thy mighty arm 
Extends an aid divine. 

Oh ! be Thou near us when we fall or stand — 

Help us to do Thy will ; 
To bow submissive to Thy chastening hand, 

Which rules in mercy still ! 



DEW-DROPS. 43 

Then why should sadness fall upon the heart, 

In Autumn's fading prime ; 
Since every season in Thy care hath part, 

And all alike are Thine? 

And through Thy love, as Spring awakes the flowers 

To blossom round our way, 
So may we waken in immortal bowers 

To Thine eternal day. 



SPRING BREATHINGS. 

HEN the springtime buds and blossoms, and 
^jy ° the beauteous earth again 
Takes the green and golden binding on her page of hill 

and plain, 
When the liquid flow of water fills the valley-land with 

song, 
And the birds their founts of music pour the whole 
bright day along, 



44 DEW-DROPS. 

Or, with wing un tired, ascending up to Heaven's blue 

profound, 
Like the fabled nymph of Echo, dying to a silver 

sound ; 
Oh! the heart can scarce be human, that will feel no 

gladness then, 
Turning not to nature's wooing from the throngs and 

works of men ; 
That will feel no pulse triumphant leap to energy 

again, 
And the flow of life's elixir bound through every torpid 

vein. 
E'en the clasping hand of sorrow must a moment loose 

its hold, 
And her heavy robe of darkness open outward, fold on 

fold, 
Till the wak'ning soul's expansion meets the sunlight's 

warming ray, 
And a fresher hope upspringing, turns its gloomy night 

to day. 
Though the changing of the seasons, year on year, hath 

met our view, 
And the seed-time and the harvest kept the olden pro- 
mise true : 



DEW- DEO PS. 45 

Though the miracles of being daily in our path are 

wrought, 
And the cycle ever rounding with the same succession 's 

fraught ; 
Yet the vernal glow of nature wears a brightness ever 

new, 
Not a sense but drinks its presence, like the flower the 

morning dew. 
Every spirit-joy within us spreads the wild exulting 

wing, 
And a freer, fresher impulse comes with each returning 

Spring. 
Not like other seasons stealing softly on with changing 

forms, 
Spring but deepens into Summer, Summer dies in 

Autumn's arms, 
Autumn weaves his rainbow-garland on her early grave 

to lay, 
Then with sighing and with weeping slowly pines and 

fades away — 
But the young life now awaking springs direct from 

Winter's sod, 
And the barren bough seems bursting with the bloom 

of Aaron's rod. 



46 DEW-DROPS. 

It is never now the dark'ning or the paling of a shade, 

From the brown twig starts the green leaf, on the rock 
the moss is laid ; 

Not a gradual transition, but a sudden vital power, 

Sending through the smallest grass-blade the great life- 
throb of the hour. 

And our pulses will be quickened with a glad respon- 
sive beat, 

While an instant all forebodings fall to atoms at our 
feet. 

All despairings and repinings take a tenfold darker hue, 

As we note the cheering beauty of the world we're 
passing through. 

Even yonder warbling sparrow bears a lesson in his 
song, 

Faith and hoping, trust and pleasure, to his artless lay 
belong. 

How much more should we, who 're valued more than 
many sparrows are, 

Grow not weary in our strivings, hopeless deem the 
blessing far. 

Let our heartstrings, like the spring birds, send their 
sweetest music forth, 

Murmuring not tho' our rewarding, wisely, never be of 
earth ; 



DEW- DEO PS. 47 

Having faith in Him who guideth every bark upon its 

way, 
Trusting ever that to-raorrow T shall be cared for as to- 

dav. 



TO E. S. IN AFFLICTION. 

^jjjfe BLAST from the shadowy valley 
^ej^ Chill to thy heart has blown ; 
The voice of the Holy Master 
Hath called back his own. 

The smiles that greeted thy coming, 

Sweet as the angels wear, 
The pressure of soft arms round thee, 

The touch of silken hair, 

Eyes full of a changing brightness, 
Lips that thy own have kissed, 

Ah! none can tell like the Mother, 
How sadly these are missed. 



48 DEW-DROPS. 

But let a gleam of the glory 
Beaming beyond the skies, 

Break thro' the mist of sorrow 
That o'er thy being lies. 

Think of the sinless spirit, 

Winging its flight above, 
Meeting no bar of judgment, 

Crowned with Eternal Love. 

Think of the trials and sorrows 
That lie in the pathway of life, 

The temptings to sin that beset us, 
The wearisome daily strife. 

The best and chosen have faltered 
Oft in the lengthened way ; 

Would'st thou have the pure and guilele 
Know of dust and decay ? 

Could thy voice by a word recall him, 
Would'st wish him back once more? 

Oh ! think that thy darling is landed 
Safe on the other shore ! 



DEW-DROPS. 49 

And thy feet seem almost pressing 
The sands of that shadowed brim, 

And nearer seemeth Heaven 
Now that it holdeth him. 

Thine eye is piercing the darkness 
Shrouding where seraphs stand, 

Thine ear is almost hearing- 
Notes from the Spirit-land. 

In dreams, the form of thy dear one 

Filleth his olden place, 
And each familiar feature, 

The vision of love can trace. 

Then think that his presence is round thee, 

Leading thy soul on high ; 
For thy heart will follow its treasure, 

Where the innocent never die. 



50 DEW-DROPS. 

LINES 

Suggested by hearing of the reply made by an aged Friend on 
being asked to visit another, whose home was in the country, 
that he would wait until the time of the singing of birds had 
come. 

c fj3kCOT now, my friend, while cold and bleak, 
<$$f Thy hills arise in winter's air, 
And skyward from each wooded peak, 

The great trees toss their branches bare ; 
While morning's brightness, icy pure, 

But causes flower and leaf to die, 
And clouds of leaden hue obscure 

The glories of the evening sky. 
Ask me not now in Winter's prime, 

To tread within thy country home, 
But wait a little, till the time 

Of singing of the birds has come. 

Not while the crisp brown leaves are whirled 
From corner nooks across our path, 

Not while these frozen darts are hurled 
Kelentless in the storm-king's wrath. 

The cold winds, over hill and plain, 
Are rushing wildly, madly tree; 



DEW-DROPS. 51 

No green-leafed boughs their course restrain, 

And wake to sweeter melody. 
But ever through their gayest chime, 

There rings a hollow, weird-like moan, — 
Oh ! wait a little, till the time 

Of singing of the birds shall come ; 

Until these crystal fetters flow 

In sparkling liquid gleams away, 
Till softer, balmier airs shall blow 

Their bugles at the gates of day ; 
When sunshine's golden glances rove 

O'er mossy banks and laughing rills, 
And fairer cloudlands float above 

The bright green circles of the hills; 
When zephyrs through the wooded dell 

Shall whisper of the violet's home, 
And Nature's thousand voices tell 

The time of singing birds has come. 

When far away the soaring lark 

Is lost within the upper blue ; 
When, ere from light is cast the dark, 

The robin bathes his bill in dew : — 



52 DEW-DROPS. 

The happy birds that know not care, 

That live their lives of endless Spring, 
Oh ! when upon thy native air, 

Their 'wildering floods of music ring, 
Then may my steps to thee and thine, 

From crowded city confines roam, — 
In Nature's temple greet the time 

Her sweetest choristers have come. 

Methinks no man, with heart yet warm, 

Can list their warblings silver clear, 
Nor feel a pleasure with them borne, 

And thank the God who placed them here 
To cheer the gloomy wastes of life, 

And many a deeper lesson teach, 
Rebuking oft its troubled strife, 

With greater eloquence than speech ; 
And bearing on each waving wing 

The symbol of a heavenly home — 
Yes, dear to me the budding Spring, 

When all the singing birds have come. 



DEW-DROPS. 53 



THE WOODLAND PATH. 

f;T winds in quiet beauty adown a lonely hill, 
Within its peaceful shadow the sylvan world is still ; 
The boughs above are twining so closely through and 

through, 
That scarce between can glisten the light of heaven's 

blue. 
The wind, whose loudest anthems without may strike the 

ear, 
Only in soft seolians, are faintly murmured here. 
The threads of Autumn sunlight are weaving here and 

there, 
In bright and golden tissue a veiling light as air. 
The greenest mosses sparkle, the rarest fern-leaves wave, 
And wildwood flowers are blowing above the Summer's 

grave ; 
And fairyland seems opened these emerald glades among, 
As fair as fancy pictured, or ever bard has sung; 
For myriad haunts of beauty, vast corridors of shade, 
Reveal at every turning the wonders God has made. 
No columned, arched cathedral the hand of man may 

raise, 
Can swell a deeper choral of honor and of praise 



54 DE IV- DEO PS. 

Than from these living pillars sounds through the 

greenwood aisles, 
And from this flowery altar in silent tribute smiles. 
Within this quiet temple the mind is calm and clear ; 
The world, with its great throbbings, seems severed 

from us here. 
A stillness to the senses, and pulseless rest, belong ; 
In dreamy undulations the waves of thought roll on; 
The happy heart ecstatic may wear its brightest crown, 
And sorrow for the moment may cast its burden down. 
Oh! though the soul awakened must turn from these 

away, 
And feel that more is needed to bring the perfect 

Day; 
That, joying in the forest, the sunshine, and the air, 
And all that God hath fashioned of beautiful and fair, 
Can never stay the spirit, with deeper longings rife, 
That thirsts for living waters from out the stream of 

Life; 
Yet is there still in Nature a charm she loseth not, 
An influence calm and holy, as in this verdant spot. 
For is not God in Nature? Do not these woodlands 

dim, 
Through all their generations, forever speak of Him ? 



DEW- DROPS. 55 

And to the loving vassal, within the leafy bower, 

Is borne a soothing presence, a tender, chastening 

power ; 
And vanish all the demons of doubting and of wrath; 
The angels, Love and Goodness, o'erhang the woodland 

path. 



LIFE'S CHANGES. 



|£p) H ! restless world, be still ! 

XlX Turn not again the swift-revolving wheel ! 
In gracious pity let me once more feel 
The dews that gather in the quiet hours, 
And drop their freshness on life's drooping flowers, 

My spirit's urn refill. 

Oh ! for the calm it craves ! 
For one still hour amid this 'wildering range! 
In life's great whirlpool of unceasing change, 
Is there no vortex where the soul may stay, 
And feel not e'en the dashing of the spray 

From off the outer waves? 



56 DEW-DROPS. 

Must the great rush go on, 
And bear forever on its foaming tide 
Our weak, resisting spirits, till they glide 
Into the unknown harbor spread before, 
Whose billows break on the eternal shore, 

Where life and death are one? 



The Spring may bloom again, 
But ne'er can waken with her fragrant breath 
The withered blossoms of our household wreath- 
The missing voices in the choir of home 
No more with love and tenderness will come 

To mingle in life's strain. 

The heart grows old so soon, 
When on the freshness that its opening gave, 
There falls the chill and shadow of the grave! 
When care encircles with its cumbering shroud, 
And sorrows loom around us like a cloud, 

We weary 'ere the noon. 

But though our hearts may cry 
For rest and peace to come with healing balm, 
Do we indeed desire a brooding calm ? 



BE W- DROPS. 57 

Would we that brighter, happier days should last, 
And be again as in the golden past, 
Until earth's glories die? 

Ah ! 'tis not ours to know 
The secret springs that move the soul of man, 
The hidden purpose in the Maker's plan ; 
We feel the thrilling of the magic thread 
That binds us to the mysteries of the dead, 

But follow not their flow. 

In the world's great design, 
'Tis change alone that gives existence power ; 
Still water stagnates — from the growing flower 
Unto the systems that revolve in space, 
'Tis one wide, universal law, whose trace 

Is of a Hand Divine. 

And thus the world within, 
Must move in endless progress toward its goal, 
The final home of the immortal soul ; 
Our strength of being gathers on the way, 
Our natures deepen, widen, as the day 

With cloud and storm grows dim. 



58 DEW-DROPS. 

And could the past return, 
'Twould wear no more the olden morning glow — 
The founts of gladuess vary as they flow, 
Our needs enlarge— desire is higher-toued — 
The fires of buried by-gone joys alone 

On Memory's altar burn. 

Thus pass life's changes on. 
All that we are, or have been, soon will seem 
The dim and gliding phantom of a dream; 
And Time itself the vapor of an hour, 
The drop that sparkles on the sunlit flower, 

And while we gaze is gone. 

Oh ! could we bear aright 
The overturnings of our Father's hand, 
And know each change to lasting good redound; 
Might but the fading of each pictured scroll, 
Fix on th' immortal canvas of the soul 

The hues forever bright ; 

Then Hope would soar above, 
And bathe her pinions in ethereal light, 
And crown her brow with heaven's stars of night, 
That in the dark with added lustre stand ; 
While Faith would sit with meekly folded hand, 
In patient trust and love ; 



DEW-DROPS. 59 

Believing that once more 
The voice we long with aching heart to hear, 
Will break in angel music on the ear; 
And the departed from our household band, 
In the green pastures of the Spirit-land, 

Be ours for evermore. 



NEPENTHE. 



f^HERE are moments when life's brightness seem- 
j? eth wholly passed away, 
When no sunbeam rifts the shadows that upon our 

spirits stay ; 
When the future holds no promise, and no consolation 

finds, 
And we fain would drug our memories that will speak 

of happier times ; 
When the lip and eye are weary forcing forth the un- 

felt smile ; 
And the voice of Hope no longer can the saddened 

heart beguile. 



60 DEW-DROPS. 

On my soul this mood had lingered, and despair's o'er- 

shadovving wings 
Hid from view the stars that beacon on to higher, 

better things. 
Life had lost its aim and purpose, drear and dark the 

pathway loomed, 
Through the wastes of blank existence henceforth and 

forever doomed. 
One by one the ties seemed breaking, leaf by leaf the 

blossoms fell, 
Drop by drop the springs of comfort dried in Faith's 

neglected well. 

And with discontented murmur, did the soul its lot 
repine — 

" Why amid the light hearts round me, falls the dark- 
ness over mine ? 

Will it thus be so forever? Must the brightest beam- 
ing ray. 

Just as life has learned to prize it, fade in utter gloom 
away ?" 

Low a voice of calm rebuking broke the loud ungrate- 
ful wail — 

" Hast thou numbered all thy blessings — are they bal- 
anced in the scale ?" 



DEW-DROPS. 61 

Like the deadened hush that follows on the tempest's 
wildest wrath, 

Or lull in the lion's roaring, as he scents his victim's 
path, 

Fell that whisper of reproving, bidding all the tumult 
cease, — 

As on Galilee's dark waters yet again commanding, 
" Peace !" 

Barring all complaining further, with those tones that 
may not fail — 

"Hast thou numbered all thy blessings — are they bal- 
anced in the scale ?" 

Is it not thus with us ever? Some o'erwhelming grief 
may cast 

Every rippling wave of gladness back upon the bil- 
lows past. 

In the one great present trouble, that upon the heart 
may stay, 

We forget the thousand blessings daily scattered round 
our way. 

Some bright boon denied our asking, some fair hope 
forever flown, 

Make us deem no lot so lonely, so forsaken as our own. 



62 DEW- DROPS. 

Ah ! we may not know the sadness twining through 
another's life, 

AH the deep despairing- anguish, all the bitter hours of 
strife. 

What though gay the laugh is ringing, though the 
numbers smoothly flow, 

Heaven keeps the balance even, and we fathom not 
below 7 ; 

What to us may seem an atom floating through a sum- 
mer air, 

May from out another's pathway blot the beams of 
sunlight there. 

Never, by our lives comparing with a seeming happier 
fate, 

Can we reach a true existence where contentment's joys 
await. 

Turn to those whose name is legion, with a pitying 
thought of love, 

To the homeless and the outcast, that in earth's low 
places rove ; 

To the sick whose nerves of being all the floods of 
suffering lave; 

And to those whose hope of refuge lies but in a name- 
less grave. 



DEW-DROPS. (3;j 

Oh! a hymn of pure thanksgiving should from grate- 
ful hearts be poured, 

And we find our great Nepenthe in the blessings freely 
siiowered. 

Ocean's vast upheaving billows sound above the coral 
groves — 

'Tis the blackest cloud of midnight that the brightest 
lio-htnino- loves — 

From the rock out gushed the waters, and the same 
Almighty Power, 

Yet can draw the draughts of gladness from the rock 
of sorrow's hour. 



THE SONG OF THE SUNBEAM. 

tAM born of Light and I dart through space 
With a swifter wing than a thought's wild race ; 
I speed toward earth, and the boundless blue 
I cleave with the flight of an arrow through. 
On the mountain top with a smile I rest, 
While the shadows roll from the valley's breast, 



64 DEW-DROPS. 

And the mists that rise off' the streams below, 
I gather and toss in a golden glow ; 
From the hands of Night, I the sceptre gain, 
And she backward glides with her starry train ; 
The powers of the dark to my claim resign — 
Oh ! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

With amber I touch each quivering tree, 
Where the western breezes are wandering free ; 
With the waving shadows I sport and play, 
And diamonds are born in my early ray ; 
The laugh of the brook has a sweeter ring 
In the sparkling glow of the light I bring ; 
And the song of the bird is sounding clear, 
When the orient beam of the morn is near; 
The fairest of lilies owes purity, 
And the queenliest rose, its blush, to me. 
On the Autumn woods I have cast my sign, — 
Oh! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

I drink in the foam of the ocean wave, 
And pierce to the depths of its coral cave ; 
From crest to crest of the billowy surge, 
I bound to the far horizon's verge, 



DEW-DROPS. 65 

Till my weary form has been rocked to sleep 
In the cradle home of the mighty deep. 
On the floating clouds I have set my seal, 
And a silver lining will each reveal ; 
On the gray old rocks where the mosses cling, 
A radiance softened and bright I fling ; 
And a tender light o'er the rugged pine — 
Oh ! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

From the icy pole of the Arctic deep, 

Where the frozen breath of the Northlands sweep, 

To the arid sands that in terror fly 

When the dread Sirocco is rushing by, — 

From the frigid zone to the burning line, 

The earth will stir at a touch of mine. 

I have sent o'er the waters a wealth of smiles, 

And lit with glory a hundred isles; 

My bow I have hung on Niagara's brow, 

And I've circled with flame the Alpine snow; 

Through the crystal boughs of the North I shine, — 

Oh! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

I linger not long in the rich man's hall, 
The boon of my presence is free for all ; 



(36 DEW-DROPS. 

On the lowliest home the world can know, 
I joy the light of my glance to throw. 
On the forest hut, through the green arcades, 
I gleefully dance with the sylvan shades; 
On the crowded streets of the busy town, 
I am flinging a ray of gladness down ; 
With the poor man's child I love to play, 
And an elfin kiss on his forehead lay, 
With his tangled curls my beams entwine, — 
Oh! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

To the prison cell for a space I turn, 
And a better thought will a moment burn 
In the hardened heart of the wretch whose life 
Has been with his God and man at strife. 
The marble tomb with my gold I lave, 
And gently rest on the grass-grown grave. 
I brown with a touch the laborer's cheeks, 
Of an honest life of toil it speaks ; 
'Tis a noble sign he may proudly wear 
To attest his birthright to sun and air; 
In his cottage home I delight to shine, — 
Oh! a joyous life and a gift is mine. 

I come with a balm to the wounded heart, 
Where grief and sorrow T have fixed their dart, 



DEW-DROPS. 67 

And gaily I bid it no longer pine, 

But brightness catch from a ray of mine. 

A blessing I breathe o'er the sick man's bed, 

And a benison leave by the couch of the dead ; 

To weary and worn, and aged, I bring 

A remembering glow of their earlier Spring. 

All people and climes at my advent rejoice — 

Oh ! gratefully raise unto Heaven your voice, 

For I come from the hand of a Father Divine, 

Aud a beautiful life and a gift is mine. 



ANOTHER YEAR. 

1st mo. 1st, 1877. 
N OTHER year! the knell of time 
Has sounded its departing doom, 
And carved, with every farewell chime, 
It's name upon the Ages' tomb. 

They press us on— the thronging years — 
They pause not at our joy or w T oe, 

But, burdened with life's hopes and fears, 
They swiftly round the months and go. 



68 DEW-DROPS. 

And still the golden sun looks down ; 

The same cold moon her course fulfils ; 
And, all about us, smile or frown, 

In grandeur the eternal hills. 

The rippling brook still floweth on 
To greet the ever restless sea, 

And by its side, the wild-bird's song 
Fills yet the air with melody. 

All Nature in her aspect wears 

The glowing of earth's dawning ray ; 

Aud on her page a thousand years 
Bear but the hues of yesterday. 

But we grow old, as one by one, 

The new years hasten from our view, 

As dropping water wears the stone, 

Their passage marks our features too. 

Still life and death speed on the same, 
And 'whelm us in their flowing tide. 

We joyed when Spring's first violets came, 
And sorrowed when the asters died. 



DEW-DROPS. 69 

And over many a pulseless heart, 

We've folded lifeless hands of clay, 
And sadly laid the mortal part 
Of loved ones in the grave away. 

Ah! these are stones that mark our way, 

That keep our reckoning sure and fast, 
The mighty links that bind to-day 
Forever with the distant past. 

The whirl of life, the rush of time, 

May bear us still resistless on, 
Till, 'mid the world's great clash or chime, 

We pause to note the moments gone, 

And mark the certain laAvs of change, 
That rule the powers of earth and air, 

That o'er the mind's extended range 
Fling varied banners, dark and fair; 

And note the shadows grow apace, 

And lengthen from the nearing west, 

As from our sky the day-star glides, 
And pauses on the evening's crest. 



70 DEW-DROPS. 

And we shall pass to be no more, 

And others with their smiles and tears, 

Will hold the book of life in hand, 
And turn the pages of the years. 



"AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER?" 

In 1773, a family of Friends, consisting of parents and seven 
children, moved into the city of Philadelphia from Vir- 
ginia. The arrival of this family amongst Friends "awak- 
ened a care and tender concern on their account, particularly 
respecting the children, who if not especially guarded and 
watched over, would be exposed to various temptations in 
the city, where vanity and many evils were sorrowfully 
prevalent ;" so some of the most weighty Friends of the 
Monthly Meeting were appointed to have a care over them, 
viz : Samuel Emlen, Samuel Smith, Samuel Hopkins, Charles 
West and Henry Drinker. 

^ YE, noble the deeds that our fathers have done, 
Unsullied and pure in their wisdom and truth; 
But few can outvie with this record of one 
Guarding and guiding the innocent youth. 




DEW-DROPS. 71 

Fresh from the freedom of forest and hill, 

From breezes and scenes that to Nature belong, 

Little they'd reck of the danger and ill, 

That lurks in the city's vast tumult and throng. 

There the song of the syren floats out on the night, 
And sin stalks abroad in the glare of the noon ; 

Temptations assail until wrong seemeth right, 

And pleasure's enchantments weave bright webs of 
doom. 

Alone and unaided, the true from the false 

They scarce could discern 'mid the glitter and show ; 

Their senses, led captive by tinsel and dross, 

Might note not the worthlessness hidden below. 

In " letters of gold" let this act be enrolled 
On our annals of time for posterity's gaze, 

The care that has shielded the lambs of the fold 
From the jaw of the wolf in the earlier days. 

And is it designed by the Father of all, 

The righteous unheeding should journey along, 

Ignoring the weak, who may stumble and fall, 

Where the hand of a brother 'd make valiant and 
strong? 



72 DEW-DROPS. 

And we, who are least, with no might of our own, 
Have a call and a mission we cannot evade ; 

From the low haunts of sin to the steps of the Throne, 
Our paths intersected with others are laid. 

As the ripples spread out when a pebble w r e send 
On the waters all silent and placid before, 

So the waves of our influence round us extend, 
Only to break on eternity's shore. 

Tho' the zeal of our fathers seems waning to-day, 

There are hearts still as warm in the cause as of old, 

Intent to be found as true guides on the way, 
To gather and lead to the Heavenly fold. 



RAINY DAYS. 



fREARILY fall the rain drops down, 
Over the valley-lands and hills, 
Heavily pressing the leaves of brown 
Into the graves the wild wind fills. 



DEW-DROPS. 73 

Sombre and dark is the world around, 
Leaden and gray the clouds on high, 

The wailing blast with a mournful sound, 
Is rushing fitful and fiercely by. 

Yet, I love a day and a scene like this, 

Filled with the beating of wind and rain, 

The hollow voice of the eddying gust — 
The furious dash on the crystal pane. 

Not with the bounding joyous thrill 

That greets the morning of green and gold, 

Nor yet the calm which our spirits feel 
When sunset's beads of rose are told, 

But like as the mist of a summer night 
Dimly uprising from stream and dell, 

Half hideth, half holdeth the moonbeam's light 
As in the braid of a fairy spell ; 

So thoughts that are tinged with a mellow glow, 
Illumed by joy, yet in sadness veiled, 

The heart and the brain will overflow 

On a day like this, by the storm assailed. 



74 DEW-DROPS. 

Memories come with the mist and gloom, 
Fraught with a chastened, tender power ; 
; Buds of the past in the present bloom ; 
Castles of air to the heavens tower. 

Back o'er the pathway of life I tread, 
And live again thro' its rainy hours; 

The way was dark, but at last it led 

Out in the sunshine among the flowers. 

Ah ! wisely is hid from our ardent gaze 
The joys and sorrows that lie in store; 

The present is ours, let us catch its rays, 
Obtain its blessing, and ask no more. 

If but the light of a Saviour's smile 

Be found the lining of cloud and haze, 

The tempest's wrath can ne'er defile 

With lengthened gloom our rainy days. 

For these to the brightest hopes will come, 
Causing the beauty of earth to flee ; 

But the promise remaineth forever sure, 
That " as thy day thy strength shall be." 



DEW-DROPS. 75 

PARTING. 

WRITTEN IN REMEMBRANCE OF T. S., AND READ AT THE 
CLOSING MEETING OF A "READING AND LITERARY 
ASSOCIATION." 

HPP) A R TING! 'tis the watchword ringing over earth 
GtfJ% its mournful dirge, 
Ever sounding its sad requiem unto life's extremest 

verge ; 
Veiling sunshine with its shadow, dimming all of 

fair and bright, 
With the chill blight of its presence ever pressing on 

our sight. 
We are met to-night to sever — past the Winter's even- 
ing hours, 
Whose cold reign was made to blossom with the heart's 

unfading flowers. 
Blooms of amaranthine beauty in our social warmth 

unfold — 
Spray from intellectual fountains keep alive the green 

and gold — 
And the pureness of each motive is the fragrance of 

the flower, 
Casting over all the perfume of a sweet unconscious 

power. 



7(5 DEW-DROPS. 

To the harmonies of pleasure we have felt our pulses 

thrill, 
Now, one common link of sorrow binds our natures 

closer still. 
When we gathered, ere the Autumn cast her golden 

sceptre down, 
Ere the blackbird ceased his chirping on the wood- 
land's leafy crown, 
There was one who walked among us in his manhood's 

royalty, 
One who felt himself a brother unto all humanity. 
Now we wait in vain to welcome kindly voice and 

smile of cheer, 
And our vision greets no longer face and form to 

memory dear. 
Gone, beyond our faint recalling, out into the dark 

unknown, 
Where our yearning gaze may follow with the eye of 

faith alone; 
Upward through the mist and shadow, we may thus 

behold him stand 
In the glorious radiance streaming from the bright and 

better land, 



DEW-DROPS. 77 

Where the chorus of the angels swells upon the hea- 
venly shore, 

And where sorrow, death, and sighing flee away for 
evermore. 

Oh ! 'tis not for him our mourning, who we firmly 
trust is now 

With the Father's Hand of blessing pressed upon his 
ransomed brow, 

But we sadly miss his presence, in our homes, and by 
the way — 

Ever ready on our altars, tender sympathy to lay, — 

Ever lending to another helping hand and willing 
ear, — 

" Bear ye one another's burdens," had for him a mean- 
ing clear. 

Showing by a bright example what a Christian's life 
should be, 

Walking in the narrow pathway with a meek humility. 

Ah ! it is not ours to question why heart-strings so pure 
in tune, 

Must be broken into fragments with life's sunlight at 
its noon ; 

Why the loving heart be widowed who in all his joys 
had share, 

And the little ones so earlv left without a father's care. 



78 DEW-DROPS. 

These can take the gracious promise of their Heavenly 

Master home, 
Unto whose embrace the widow and the fatherless may 

come ; \ 

Feeling that in every trial lieth hid the germ of love, 
Meant to bear immortal fruitage in the spirit-bowers 

above. 
To us all is warning given ; that, whene'er our summons 

come, 
We may go to join our loved ones in their blest eter- 
nal home, 
Who as guardian angels hover round about the jasper 

Throne, ( 

W T here the severed meet forever, and where parting is ; 

unknown. 



MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

jj I H E sunbeams rest with a tender light 
fr On the place of my childhood's home, 
And smile thro' the waving boughs as bright 
As in other days they shone. 



DEW-DROPS. 79 

The brooklet's music is sounding still 

From the bank where the violets grew ; 

It wakes in my heart the olden thrill 
The spring of my lifetime knew. 

But the hand of the stranger trains the vine 

That climbs by the lattice now, 
And decked for other eyes than mine 

Is the fragrant lilac bough. 
The oriole builds his swinging nest 

In the spot he has chosen long; 
Bat I watch no more the flaming breast 

Swell forth with its tide of song. 

The pictures throng on Memory's walls, 

Oh, home of my early years! 
Loved voices speak, then the silence falls, 

And mine eyes are dimmed with tears. 
Oh ! orchard blooms, that have drifted down 

On forms that are passed away, 
Oh ! path by familiar footsteps worn, 

Ye sadden the heart to-day ! 

Here on the porch the moonlight fell, 
Thro' the peace of the summer night ; 



80 DEW-DROPS. 

The evening star o'er yon sunset hill, 
I've watched till it sunk from sight ; 

Here is the room where the dear home band, 
By the winter firesid met, — 

Oh ! it needeth not the enchanter's wand, 
For my vision to greet it yet. 

Here — softly tread — for the hand of time 

Is pressed on the heartstrings now, 
The quivering chords with an anguished chime, 

Give forth but a sound of w r oe, 
That gathers strength as the years roll on, 

And the seasons go and come, 
For here the soul of our sainted one 

Went up to her Father's home. 

Aye, sacred still unto every thought, 

Each spot that her presence blest ; 
Ah! mother dear, there are changes wrought 

In our old loved valley nest. 
Can thy spirit look from its glorious height, 

On thy struggling children here, 
Who may only walk by faith, not sight, 

And who miss thy guide and cheer ? 



DEW-DROPS. 81 

We have passed beyond that roof-tree's shade ; 

Life's noonday of toil is ours ; 
But as thou taught us, still we strive 

To cherish its wayside flowers : 
And though at times our hearts may yearn 

For some beautiful moment o'er, 
And unto the dear old homestead turn 

With longing, intense and sore, 

Yet we feel that a wiser Hand than ours 

Hath guided and planned our day, 
Poured blessings down in the richest showers, 

And chastened in love alway : 
And we mourn no more the vanished past, 

But treasure it sweet and pure, 
To be held as a gracious memory fast, 

While reason and time endure. 



82 DEW-DROPS. 

MORNING. 

M^ H ! beautiful, golden Morning, 
XJX Set in the crown of day, 
Like a jewel whose living lustre 

Must gladden the heart alway, 
I hail with pulses bounding 

The gleam of thy early light, 
And the cares that life o'ershadow 

Fall back with the veil of night ; 
Or, like yon mists of the valley, 

That over the streamlets stand, 
Their gray is changed to amber, 

By the touch of thy magic hand. 

The leaves of the willows tremble 

With thy soft air passing through, 
The grass on th' lawn and meadow 

Is starred with quivering dew. 
The breath of the woodbine noateth 

In at the open door, 
The twitter of wren and sparrow 

Sounds cheery and blythe before: 
From far and near re-echo 

The tones of Nature's Ivre ; 



DEW-DROPS. 83 

The voices of earth's awakening 
Swell to a mighty choir. 

Sink, Oh ! beautiful Morning, 

Deep in the hearts of all ; 
Let the plummet line of thy brightness 

Down thro' our darkness fall. 
Let the laborer feel the purest 

Influence thou canst wield, 
As he passes the woodland covert, 

And hies o'er the spangled field. 
Deeper than sign or symbol, 

Let his vision of spirit go, 
Turning to course unwonted, 

His thoughts' unceasing flow. 

Let us learn of thee, O Morning, 

A lesson of hope and truth, 
Drinking with thee the water 

From the fount of eternal youth ! 
Bearing life's early freshness 

On thro' the noontide heat, 
Finding the path still golden, 

When sunset and twilight meet ; 



84 DEW-DROPS. 

And, shed in the calm and quiet, 
May the dew of peace be ours, 

To nourish for bloom hereafter 
The heart's immortal flowers. 



OUR HILLS. 



JHEY sound the praise of other lands, 
ft They tell us of the castled Rhine, 
Upon whose storied margin stands 

The memory of an ancient time: 
The highland of the frozen North 

The poet's pen with rapture fills, 
But rarely breaks the minstrel forth 
In singing of our native hills — 

Our hills of green, our hills of snow, 

Of every varied hue and form, 
With sunshine's dazzling light aglow, 

Or dark'ning grandly in the storm ; 
Empiled with rocks, adorned with flowers, 

Or waving with the summer grain ; 
Or crowned with lofty forest towers, 

AVhose music swells a low refrain ; 



DEW-DROPS. 85 

With streamlets rippling at their feet ; 

Above, the cloudland and the sky ; 
All glistening with the winter sleet, 

Or gorgeous with the Autumn dye. 
In every change that, passing o'er, 

The olden promised course fulfils, 
We need to pause, and more and more 

Admire the beauty of our hills. 

They rise around us grand as when 

The morning stars together sung ; 
When, at the voice of God, the earth 

From chaos to existence sprung. 
Unmoved and firm their bases /.tand, 

While race on race have passed away, — 
The features of a pleasant land, 

The monuments of yesterday. 

And all among these peaceful slopes, 

The dear homes nestle of our time, 
Each freighted with its human hopes, 

That teem in every age and clime. . 
The smoke from many a cheerful hearth 

Goes upward to the purer blue, 
And in its ascent breathes the worth 

Of fireside joys so warm and true. 



86 DEW-DROPS. 

Aiid thus we linger, day by day, 

Amid the forms of great and small, 
That to the humble but convey 

The praise of Him who made them all. 
The heart that only can adore 

The Boundless Love which underlies 
This beauty, is preparing for 

The glorious heights of Paradise. 



LINES. 

Written on the occasion of Senator Revels' first speech, in 
the Senate of the United States, Third mo. 16th, 1870. 

f|HE world moves on apace. Still, one by one, 
® Oppression's friends are driven from the earth. 
The mists of prejudice and error melt 
Like morning vapor in the noonday sun ; 
The blinded eyes have opened to the light, 
And Heaven's miracles are working still 
In this dark land of ours. Lift up the head, 
O, race downtrodden, humbled and despised, 



DEW-DROPS. 87 

And see the wonder that the age has wrought 

To-day in your behalf. Breathe God's free air, 

With manhood honored and with rights maintained. 

This day has Afric's voice been heard within 

The Council of the Nation, and the sound, 

Proclaiming free equality for all, 

Is wafted as a grateful incense up 

Unto the ear of Justice. Nevermore, 

The shade that deepens on your dusky brows 

Shall prove you all unworthy of the boon 

Of home and country, liberty and life, 

And, with the blessing, all that makes life dear. 

Long have ye waited, crying unto Him 

Who never fails the wronged and suffering one; 

And in the fulness of His perfect time 

The fire-winged answer came, and all your woes 

Avenged, and offered in the flame that rose 

From off the blood-stained altar of our land. 

And thus 'twill be forever. In God's own time, 
No wrong shall go unrighted ; every yoke 
That weighs the spirit downward unto dust, 
Shall yet be broken, and our bondage cease. 



88 DEW-DROPS. 

INDIAN SUMMER. 

fOFTLY and dreamily floateth the blue 
Of the Indian Summer the atmosphere through ; 
Drowsily lingers on forest and hill, 
The spell of her presence, so consciously still. 
The gold of her sunshine falls mellowed in beam, 
Thro' the veil that enrobes her, on woodland and stream. 
The Sabbath is come of the swift rolling year ; 
The calm aud the rest, and the silence are here. 
The worship of Nature from leaf-covered sod, 
Like incense of offering, goes up unto God. 
Her toiling is over, her fruitage is done, 
She hath gained the repose that her labor hath won ; 
She hath cast her abundance from mountain to shore — 
The wealth of the season in basket and store ; 
And now, as the Christian whose toil has been long, 
Who hath valiantly battled with evil and wrong, 
Pauses to feel in the quietness nigh, 
The heavenly dew from the Day-spring on high ; 
Though knowing that still in the pathway before, 
Trouble and danger lie waiting in store ; 
So the spirit of Nature seems pausing to rest, 
Ere the storm-clouds of Winter sweep over her breast;- 



DEW-DROPS. 89 

And gathers around her the warmest of beams, 
The softest of lights, and the fairest of dreams. 
And thus, have I thought, there are lives here below, 
Whose symbol is found in this calmness and glow ; 
Lives who have borne thro' the heat of the day 
The burdens that fall unto mortals alway ; 
Who brightly and bravely have labored to fill 
Their measure of good thro' their portion of ill ; 
Have shed light around thro' their long golden prime, 
And borne the rich fruits in their Autumn of time. 
But we find, as they come to the close of their year, 
Where the freshness and greenness of life disappear, 
When blossoms are gone and withered leaves fall, 
Their Indian Summer the glory of all — 
The crown of their days, as they trustingly wait 
On the threshold of Death for the open pearl gate, 
Now touched with a beauty we saw not before, 
A radiance cast from a far brighter shore, 
Serenely and peacefully passing away 
Thro' the shadowy vale to the portals of Day. 



90 DEW-DROPS 



DRIFTING 



'fiQ\ N E by one our days are drifting downward on 

XJX the stream of Time — 

Slowly is the veil uplifting from the future's hidden 

shrine : 
One by one our deeds are numbered in the great Re- 
cording Tome, 
To be opened by the angel when we stand before the 

Throne. 
Youth is vanishing behind us, — all life's threads are on 

the loom, 
To be woven into brightness or be marred and cut in 

gloom. 
Can it be that we are standing with the workers of our 

day? 
We, from whom the dew of morning seemeth scarcely 

passed away ? 
On whose senses has not withered all the pleasure life 

bestows, 
And whose pulses still will quicken at the opening of 

the rose ? 
All our rich and varied blessings we are holding fast 

and dear, 



DEW-DROPS. 91 

Still unlearned the needful lesson that the storm-cloud 

may be near. 
When the air is filled with sunshine and the blossoms 

deck our way, 
Hard it is to paint the picture dark and cheerless, cold 

and gray ; 
Yet while life seems great and noble, home a spot of 

quiet joy, 
All the world so full of beauty, we can see no base 

alloy, 
We may be serenely drifting past the isles of rest and 

peace, 
That await the weary traveller as the toil and heat 

increase. 
Though our hearts may be uplifted oft in gratitude 

above, 
Are we faithful to the breathings of God's manifested 

love? 
Do we bend to catch each whisper of the " still, small 

voice" within, 
Seeking, with most earnest purpose, what is Truth, and 

what is sin ? 
Is there not a secret danger in our busy lives of care, 
Of the Holy Spirit's teachings being slighted unaware? 



92 DEW-DROPS. 

It may be those pure monitions we had thought to call 

our own, 
When we pause and turn to heed them, are perhaps for- 
ever flown. 
Only in the time He giveth can the soul salvation 

find- 
To the horns about the altar we the sacrifice must bind ; 
Not by drifting with the current, living to ourselves 

alone, — 
He who seeks another's welfare, oftentimes will find 

his own. 
May we more and more awaken to the labors of our 

day, 
Ere our sun be past the zenith and life's fragrance fled 

away ; 
Keeping ever low and humble at the blessed Master's 

feet, 
To be taught by Him and guided gently to the mercy 

seat. 
And the years will lose no brightness, but an added 

lustre bring, 
And we find our Autumn Gentians fairer than the 

flowers of Spring. 



DEW-DROPS. 93 

TO THE MEMORY OF CHARLES 

EVANS. 

E mourn in Israel for a strong one gone, 
^° [ A soldier of the Cross, 
Taken from conflict with his armor on, 
Gathered from pain and loss. 

No more that voice, in thrilling tones of power, 

Shall guide to purer day — 
Nor, in the sittings of the council hour, 

Show forth the surer way. 

No more that pen, so long and ably borne, 

Will trace the Master's thought, — 
The Ancient Faith upholding in the form 

The early fathers taught. 

From youth to age in meek and reverent fear, 

The Christian's path he trod, 
Counting no treasure of this life too dear 

To offer to his God. 

Proclaiming ever to a gazing world 

The reason for our hope, 
Keeping the banner on the wall unfurled, 

Bearing its standard up. 



94 DEW-DROPS. 

And now, O, Friend, beyond the Morning star, 

The crown of life is thine, 
Where the blest homes of the immortals are 

Glowing with light Divine. 

Again earth's Spring hath wakened up her throng 

To music, life and cheer ; 
It is but discord to the glorious song 

That breaks upon thine ear. 

Thine eye hath opened on a fairer Spring, 

Where sorrows haunt no breast, 
Where all of care is a forgotten thing 

In God's eternal rest. 

And though we mourn thy faithful spirit gone 

From works on earth away, 
The bright example shineth on and on, 

Unto life's perfect day. , 

And He who guided with unerring Hand, 

Beyond Time's farthest shore, 
Still waits to lead into the promised land 

His children evermore. 



DEW-DROPS. 95 

OUE BIRTHRIGHT. 

^yjggE may not trace our lineage down 

'C^,° Thro' veins where royal blood has flowed, 

Nor find our heraldry renowned 

For valorous deeds, nor wealth of gold ; 
But greater than the emblazoned arms 

And crest that tell of noble birth, 
Or trophied plume of war's alarms, 

Our record of ancestral worth. 

We wreathe no hero's tomb with flowers, 

Nor crown with laurel, nor with bay, 
Yet never grander theme than ours 

For history's page or poet's lay. 
The priceless heritage we claim, 

By many a martyr's blood is sealed, 
And Time can boast no prouder name 

Than " Quaker," graven on his shield. 

Why turn w T e from those tenets now, 

And seek to find an easier way ? 
The strength to stem sin's tidal flow 

Was ne'er more needed than to-day. 



96 DEW-DROPS. 

Still rouDd our hearts on every side 
The wily Tempter's baits are set, 

The path grows not more straight nor wide 
Among the meshes of his net. 

We know that neither form nor creed 

The heavy-laden soul can save ; 
No ritual answers to our need, 

No vesture brings the peace we crave ; 
But when we cross the billowy sea, 

We choose a vessel staunch and tight, 
Tho' knowing still our lives to be 

In hands of One who ordereth right. 

And sailing on life's ocean wave, 

Oh ! may our fathers' ship be ours ; 
The honored truths they died to save, 

Be cherished as most precious dowers. 
Cast not the smallest tithe away, 

Nor let another wear our crown 
But down the ages gain for aye 

An added lustre and renown. 

And with the letter of our faith, 
Oh ! grant the spirit cometh, too ; 



DEW-DROPS. 97 

That we may prove in life and death, 

The glory of our Israel true. 
Thus anchored on the eternal Kock, 

Our birthright will be ours indeed ; 
And neither wave nor tempest's shock 

Can move the bulwarks of our creed. 



LINES. 

On seeing my Father reading his Marriage Certificate. 

fTjpjHE hand is thin and wasted that holds the parch- 

^R ment sheet, 

The face that bends above it with lines of care 's re- 
plete, 

The hair upon the temples is spare and silver white, 

And the eyes so weak and faded have lost their olden 
light. 

What memories crowd upon him, the lone surviving 
one, 

Thus waiting at life's evening the setting of the sun! 

Adown the far dim vistas they reach that long ago, 



98 DEW-DROPS. 

When the tide of manhood quickened to joyous rhyth- 
mic flow. 
When life held out a future of promise and of hope, 
And cast in rainbow colors a brilliant horoscope. 
There was much of earth to gladden, there was all to 

dare and do, 
And the blessing of the Father for the faithful and the 

true. 
He reads the names there written of those who gathered 

then, — 
How few to-day are standing among the ranks of men ! 
And she, the loved and cherished, the bride of early 

years — 
Ah ! now the eyes are laden with the precious gift of 

tears. 
A spirit mild and gentle, adorned with virtues rare, 
He pictures her beside him with the smile she used to 

wear. 
They toiled through noon together — in joy and grief 

were one — 
Bore each the other's burdens, and cheered with loving 

tone: 
But when the shadows lengthened, and the pathway 

sloped to west, 
She passed " beyond the river," and entered into rest. 



DEW-DROPS. 99 

We watched her slowly fading, our patient suffering 

one, 
Until there came the summons, her work on earth was 

done. 
A memory pure and tender alone is left us now, 
No time can dim its lustre, no power its might o'er- 

throw. 

The parchment-sheet is folded, the glasses lain aside, 
And deep in revery fallen his thoughts beyond us glide; 
Beyond these narrow confines, out into broader day, 
Where every tear of sorrow his God shall wipe away. 
Sometimes, methinks, he listens to spirit-voices near, 
And hears celestial music fall softly on his ear. 
What holds the world more lovely, more beautiful than 

this, 
A long life filled with goodness, and crowned at last 

with bliss? 
But see — a baby-presence is clamoring at his knee, 
And baby-hands are lifted to his imploringly ; 
The little clinging touches have power to bring to 

earth, 
And call on every feature the smile of pleasure forth. 
He wakens to the present with all the child's delight, — 



100 DEW-DROPS. 

Oh! still life's links are binding, and polished clear and 

bright; 
And as the fair head nestles so closely to his breast, 
And aged arms encircle, like dove within its nest, 
A fervent hope will waken, a mother's prayer arise, 
That one may, like the other, be ripened for the skies, 
And find a welcome entrance at the gate of Paradise. 



BLOSSOMS. 

f; N the orchard, down the lane, 
; O'er the field, against the pane, 
Starring all the springing grass 
When the freshening breezes pass, 
Thick as snowflakes in the air, 
Blossoms, blossoms, everywhere. 

On the rough and rugged wall, 
Pure and beautiful they fall, 
To the mossy roof they cling, 
Pleasant as the thoughts they bring, 
Making earth so wondrous fair, 
Blossoms, blossoms, everywhere. 



DEW-DROPS. 101 

Petals soft of pink and white, 
Resting like a cloud of light 
On each bending twig and spray, 
Filling all the air of May 
With a sweetness rich and rare, 
Floating round us everywhere. 

In and out among the bloom, 
Flitting with a merry tune, 
Busy choosing them a home 
For the summer months to come, 
Pass the tenants of the air, 
Singing, singing everywhere. 

With the tip of waving wing 
Snowy showers they downward fling, 
Pouring notes without alloy 
In an ecstasy of joy ; 
Blithe the unison they bear 
To the blossoms everywhere. 

Moist with cool and fragrant dew 
Heart and life are blossoming too ; 
All my senses thrill and ring 
With the choral of the Spring, 



102 DEW-DROPS. 

All earth's branches bloom and bear 
Blossoms, blossoms, everywhere. 

From the darkness into light, 
Shining with the rose and white, 
With the rush and song of bird 
Is my path of being stirred ; 
May I bow in grateful prayer 
For the blossoms everywhere. 



OUR MEETING. 



jg SOLEMN hush is resting o'er the aisles our 
feet have trod, 
As Friend by Friend is seated where we meet to wor- 
ship God : 
The breath of silent prayer seems throbbing on the air, 
Arising as sweet incense from burdened hearts of care. 

My thoughts, alas, are wandering like the raven, to and 

fro, 
I seem to see before me the forms of long ago. 



DEW-DROPS. 103 

From hours of earliest childhood my steps have hither 

turned, 
To sit in living silence, or hearken words that burned : 

Along yon gallery's ranges, now almost lone and bare, 
I've gazed with earnest reverence on crowns of snow- 
white hair: 
And all adown these benches, so thinly peopled now, 
Filed ranks of men and women in solid row on row. 

Ah! clear to memory's vision, some cherished ones 

arise, 
Who oft, I love to fancy, are bending from the skies, 
Their viewless spirits hovering as guardian angels near, 
To shield from harm and danger, to comfort and to 

cheer. 

The shining of their footsteps to us is radiant yet ; 
Their words of tender counsel we never shall forget. 
The lives of good and holy the farthest regions lave. 
The circles of their influence extend beyond the grave. 

And here these vacant places a language speak to-day, 
A call to all to enter the strait and narrow way. 
Though but a feeble remnant of better days are we, 
Unworthv as successors, we feel ourselves to be, 



104 DEW-DROPS. 

Yet He whose power is mighty, who was our father's God, 
Who bringeth light from darkness, and breath to soul- 
less clod, 
Can still, as we are willing to yield our hearts to Him, 
Revive our ancient glory, now vanishing and dim. 

Could we but cast our anchor beyond life's cumbering 

cares, 
Whose many varied interests absorb us unawares, 
And with a purer purpose, a holier zeal entwine, 
Then, like our predecessors, our faithfulness would shine : 

And by our bright example might other feet be led, 

The path of self-denial and humbleness to tread ; 

For e'en the least among us may wield unconscious 

power, 
As on the air is wafted the perfume of a flower, 

While he, unto whose senses the fragrant breath may 
come, 

May scarce discern the blossom in its secluded home. 

In weakness only lieth our strength to be and do; 

As drops that form the rainbow with sunlight shimmer- 
ing through, 



DEW-DROPS. 105 

So heart and life must brighten with beauty not our 

own, 
Ere beams the bow of promise our Ark of Faith upon ; 
Then will the walls of Zion be builded as before, 
And all her bounds of glory will widen evermore. 



A MEMORY. 



INHERE broods a stillness in the early gloaming, 
"^ A sense of quiet rest, 
And busy thought that all the day was roaming, 
Now settles in my breast. 

With peaceful motion beats the pulse of even ; 

And out from yonder star, 
There seems the radiance of the inner heaven 

To stream thro' "gates ajar." 

The time and feeling bring a sweet remembrance 

Of long departed hours, 
That to the present only bear the semblance 

Of crushed and faded flowers. 



106 DEW-DROPS. 

But yet the odor of the blossom lingers. 

Embalmed from all decay; 
And still the heart-strings touched by loving fingers 

Vibrate in song alway. 

I see again, with clear, unshadowed vision, 

A form beloved of old, 
Whose spirit long in fadeless realms Elysian 

Hath walked the streets of gold. 

This hour to her was dearer than the morning, 

And lovelier than deep night, 
With all the beauty of its grave adorning, 

Its clear yet mellowed light. 

And now I hold, as girlhood's richest blessing, 

That hour beside her chair, 
When bending o'er her, with my touch caressing 

The soft brown of her hair, 

And listening words of pure and tender meaning, 

As thought was link d to thought, 
Till to my heart the truths of years of gleaning, 

In gathered sheaves were brought. 



DEW-DROPS. 10* 

O ! mother, mother, that the fruit is sparing, 

Is never fault of thine ! 
Both late and early, with a hand untiring, 

Thou sow 'dst seed divine. 

The years are many since the cold, dark river 

Hath rolled our lives between, 
While Time and change are pressing me forever 

On to the great unseen. 

Now to my chair the little ones come thronging 

As to their earthly goal, 
And in each childish face I trace the longing 

Of an immortal soul. 

Had but thy mantle on thy daughter fallen, 

Sweet spirit passed away ! 
Less weak and helpless for the duties calling, 

Would my heart stand to-day. 

Ah ! well, the bread was cast upon the waters, 

And after many days, 
May it be found to thine eternal honor, 

And to our Maker's praise. 



108 DEW-DROPS. 

ONE YEAR AGO. 

'jffh N E year ago — and from our household altar 
Xp A presence dear had flown ; 
The brave, true spirit that did never falter, 
Went up unto God's throne. 

One year ago — and yet we gaze in sadness 

Upon this vacant chair ; 
The voice so cheering, and the smile of gladness, 

Still will our memory bear. 

One year ago — how like a sweet sound dying 

To echoes far away, 
The blessed influence of the light that's lying 

All in the past, to-day 

Comes to us softly 'mid the world's commotion, 

Its endless toil and din, 
With the bright record of its pure devotion 

Alluring back from sin. 

The cycle rounded in its varied beauty, 

As passed the seasons on ; 
Still strove we feebly in the path of duty 

To walk tho' he had gone. 



DEW-DROPS. 109 

To us it brought an inner sense of sorrow, 

Where'er our pathway lay, 
While swiftly dawned upon each coming morrow 

The cares of yesterday. 

But unto him what glorious revelation 

Burst on the spirit's sight, 
As faith beheld its blissful consummation 

In the bright Land of Light! 

Oft when the silence and the calm come o'er us, 

I bend in thought to hear 
The swelling anthem of that mighty chorus 

His voice is joining clear. 

At times, when wearied with life's cares, I enter 

The dear familiar room, 
Within whose precincts there can never centre 

One memory of gloom ; 

Beside the window is the Bible lyiug 

Upon the old low stand ; 
I turn the pages, fraught with life undying, 

With slow and reverent hand ; 



110 DEW-DROPS. 

And all the while a presence seems to hover, 

Bringing a restful calm ; 
Again I hear the loved voice chanting over 

A sweet and favorite Psalm. 

Oh ! may the light his life behind is casting 

Fade nevermore away, 
But be our beacon upward, ever lasting 

Unto the clearer day. 

And grant, O, Giver of our every ;>bssing, 

For his sake we may be 
Yet made to render unto Thee thanksgiving, 

With voice of melody. 



BY THE SEA. 

fOLEMN and slow, 
Dashed to and fro, 
With a sound like a funeral dirge, 
The voice of the sea 
Thus seemed to me, 
As I stood by its foaming surge. 



DEW-DROPS. HI 

With a low, sad moan, 

In its undertone, 
That swelled to a chant sublime, 

It flung on the sands 

White, watery hands, 
Then died to a murmuring chime. 

The full moon came 

With a silvery flame, 
That glimmered from crest to crest; 

As a smile of light 

Makes a grave face bright, 
So it lit up the ocean's breast. 

But the same wild cry 

From the breakers nigh 
Was borne on the evening air ; 

Though the heart might thrill 

To its beauty, still, 
The voice of the sea was there. 

From the tidal swell, 
As it rose and fell, 
Came ever these words to me : 



112 DEW-DROPS. 

"I am rushing on, 
With my ceaseless song, 
Till the end of the world shall be. 

" There are treasures vast, 

In my caverns cast, 
That shall come to the light no more 

The pomp of earth, 

In my stately mirth, 
I've hurled these billows o'er. 

" And many a life, 
With bright hopes rife, 

Hath found in my depths a grave, 
Its winding shroud, 
Its requiem loud, 

The deep and the sounding wave. 

"Yet mortal, know, 
Tho' thy form I'd throw 

Aloft in my lightest spray, 
Thou hast in thee 
That which shall be 

When I shall have passed away. 



DEW-DROPS. 113 

" The immortal soul, 

As the ages roll 
The eternal spheres among, 

Will still live on 

When my waves are gone 
To the chaos from whence they sprung. 

" Thou wilt leave my side, 

With the ebbing tide, 
Again for thy inland home, 

And forget not there, 

That thou must prepare 
For a life that is yet to come. 

" Obedient still 

To my Maker's will, 
I shall toss and foam on high ; 

Be it thine to live, 

So that He may give 
Those joys that shall never die." 



114 DEW-DROPS. 



THE CRICKET'S SONG. 

fET again we hear the cricket, chirping blithely in 
the wall ; 
And I love the sound to listen, when the evening sha- 
dows fall ; 
When the nicker of the firelight dances round the quiet 

room, 
Drawing weird and sombre pictures in the deep'ning 

Autumn gloom. 
Cheerily the voice comes breaking on the pensive realm 

of thought ; 
With a host of coming pleasures is its joyous music 

fraught. 
Years agone, when life's young current like a mountain 

streamlet ran, 
Sparkling in the early sunlight, flashing in the grayer 

dawn, 
Naught in Nature made the spirit spread a lighter, 

freer wing, 
Than the fresh reviving advent of each glad returning 

Spring. 
Now, the stream has reached the river, and flows onward 

to the sea ; 



DEW-DROPS. 115 

From its broader depths reflecting light and shade al- 
ternately ; 

And the mild, still hours of Autumn wear a charm 
that's greater far, 

As the clear light of Arcfcurus dims the lesser Pleiad 
star. 

Golden rod and blooming aster, chilly night and frosty 
morn, 

In the cricket's merry singing, to my mind this eve are 
borne. 

And there wakes no note of sadness, tho' the crimsoned 
leaf must fall, 

And the wail of desolation sound thro' Nature's palace 
hall. 

Other joys will spring in being — social flowers will bud 
and bloom ; 

Threads of home are closer woven in the Winter fire- 
side loom, 

That the whole completed fabric may of richer strands 
be wrought, 

With a woof of pure affection, glittering with the gems 
of thought; 

And we fain would see it growing to a pure and spot- 
less white, 



116 DEW-DROPS. 

At the touches of the Saviour's all-transforming wand of 

light. 
Oh ! it seems a fitting moment, when the blossoms pass 

away, 
Not to mourn their faded beauty, but to closely scan 

to-day ; 
Mark, how buried joy and gladness oft in other forms 

arise ; 
Note the star-lit vault of Summer ne'er can equal Win- 
ter's skies ; 
String anew the pearls of virtue ; gather ripened seeds 

of truth, 
To be sown "beside all waters," in the tender soil of 

youth ; 
Craving help and strength to keep us in our places day 

by day, 
Every gift upon the altar in humility to lay ; 
Feeling all our human weakness, and our more than 

human need, 
That, alone and all unaided, vain our every thought and 

deed. 
And the power that overcometh will be given to us all, 
And a trust and love that's deeper, like the dews of 
blessing fall ; 



DEW-DROPS. 117 

Even as these days of brightness, when the toils of Na- 
ture cease, 

Seem the season's benediction, and its hour of perfect 
peace. 



BIRTHDAY LINES TO A FRIEND 

CjK§IKE sunbeams on the wall of Time, 
«-5j!>* The years slip from our grasping ; 
The early dew of life has gone, 
But love is everlasting. 

Oh, softly to my thoughts to-night 
Sweet memory's airs are blowing ; 

On thee, dear Friend, the tender light 
Of other days is glowing. 

And from the scenes once painted bright, 

In colors clear, unfading, 
I brush the dust of years, and gaze 

With eyes that tears are shading. 



118 DEW-DROPS. 

Ah! yes, the past is all our own, 
Its links remain unbroken ; 

Tho' many a deed we'd wish undone, 
And many a word unspoken, 

Yet as a whole the lives we leave 
In peaceful rest behind us, 

Have many a precious page to show 
That to the present bind us. 

Thro' shifting scenes of care and change, 
Our ways apart have drifted ; 

Yet, like the steel the magnet's power 
Has ever drawn and lifted, 

My spirit unto thine will cling 
In near responsive feeling, 

Till from our eyes the veil is drawn 
Immortal scenes revealing. 

Not to the heights of wealth and power, 
Our steps have e'er ascended, 

No trump of honor or of fame 
Has e'er our path attended. 



DEW-DROPS. 119 

Our lot has been in quiet homes, 

Mid rounds of daily duty, 
And at our feet earth's sweetest flowers 

Have bloomed in joy and beauty. 

The great things of the world of Faith 

To us have ne'er been given, 
We only trust that day on day 

May find us nearer Heaven. 

For more and more we feel that life 

Is but a shadow, passing 
Across the endless ages, stretched 

From time to everlasting. 

The hands we take and hold and press 

Are vanishing forever, 
Dear hearts that thou and I have loved 

Are passed "beyond the river." 

And may we follow in the way 

Their bright examples lead us, 
And know like them the manna still 

At seasons fresh to feed us. 



120 DEW-DROPS. 

Thus faint and halting, poor and blind, 
But with best wishes teeming, 

I write these birthday-lines for thee, 
With greater love than seeming. 

The sweetest songs are those unsung, 
And in my heart is singing 

A richer melody than word 
Or pen to thee is bringing. 

And when the mists of time are blown 
From off the path before us, 

United may we join the song 
Of God's eternal chorus. 



THANKSGIVING. 



/pROM choir and from altar a hymn will ascend, 

^p Pagans of praise and thanksgiving will blend — 

The year has been crowned with the goodness of God, 

It hath smiled from the skies, it hath bloomed from the 

sod; 



DEW-DROPS. 121 

And now, thro' the length and the breadth of our land, 
The rulers have issued their words of command, 
To the Lord of the harvest oblations to pour, 
And lowly before Him to worship, adore. 

Oh! not in our time, will, and strength can we come; 
The heart must be silent, the lips must be dumb, 
Until touched with a coal from His altar of fire, 
Awakening and kindling to holy desire. 
All vainly the perfume in censer is swung, 
All vainly hosannas in chorus are sung, 
If the soul do not feel what the voice may declare, 
In humility breathing the publican's prayer. 

Not alone when the forest is casting its leaf, 
When the wind-harp is wailing in sadness and grief; 
Not alone w 7 hen the treasures of Autumn are stored, 
In their richness and worth tho' abundantly poured ; 
When the light of prosperity beams on our shore, 
Must we gratefully bow our Creator before: 
All seasons alike our allegiance should prove; 
For " the earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof." 

For the gifts that are ours from a Father Divine, — 
For the graces and loves that our lives intertwine, 



122 DEW-DROPS. 

For the blessings that glow like a halo of light 
Round the gloomiest path to illumine its night, 
For the mercy that reaches our wandering afar, 
For the hope that will guide us like Bethlehem's star, 
Our hearts should be lifted responsive alway, 
And every day be our Thanksgiving-day. 



SUNRISE AND SUNSET. 

12th mo., 1883. 
^A$£ ITH what new glory enters in the day! 

tym c J J 

J 6jj^° What wondrous alchemy hath mixed the tints 
That flame in splendor up the eastern sky, 
Bright herald of the dawn ? Night's ebon brow- 
Wears now the stain of an unwonted flush, 
Long ere the stars retire, whose pure, clear beams 
Send their bright arrows thro' the frosty air, 
Till lost in the effulgence of the morn, 
That from horizon to horizon spreads, 
And bathes the zenith in its matchless glow. 



DEW-DROPS. 123 

And when the day is passing to its rest — 
Another drop in that unfathomed sea 
Whose wavelets break upon an unknown shore — 
What perfect radiance on its passage waits ! 
What changing brilliance of the hues that make 
Our sunsets rival the Italian skies! 
A pale, clear amber overspreads the blue, 
Then slowly deepens until all the west 
Seems to our gaze a wall of burning gold, 
Thro' which the mild rays of the Evening star 
Shine like a diamond, and the crescent Moon 
Hangs as a shadow in the gorgeous sky. 
Awhile the dazzliug pageantry remains, 
Flooding the earth with beauty, and anon 
Becomes a crimson of the deepest dye, 
That lingers long upon the world, and flings 
Its blood-red banner in the face of Night. 

Arise, oh ! science, and expound us now 
This glorious wonder of our latter age ; 
Bring forth thy hints of meteoric dust, 
Or ashes still from far volcanoes blown. 
Tell us thy theories of earth and sky, 
Argue from known unto an unknown law — 
And yet thy power all impotent remains, 



124 DEW- DROPS. 

And reason's light is baffled in its search. 
Enough that He who guides the universe, 
Who pours the waters from his hollow hand, 
And shapes the smallest destiny of man, 
Hath, in the richness of his boundless love, 
An added beauty given to the world. 



QUESTIONINGS. 

fILENTLY fell the cloudlands 
Apart from the evening sky, 
Softly the breath of the west wind 
Floated in fragrance by. 

Over the distant hill-tops, 
Flooding the valley land, 

The beauty of sunset rested, 

A beauty complete and grand. 

I stood with my little daughter, 
Watching the day's decline, 

Till the night made up her jewels, 
In a radiant crown to shine. 



DEW-DROPS. 125 

I saw on the face of the gazer 

A far-off look arise, 
And a wistful wonder brooded 

In the depths of her earnest eyes. 

" Mamma," the child-voice queried, 
" Does Grandpa see us now ? 
Can he look from yonder heaven 
To this world so far below ? 

" Can he see from the golden City, 

Thro' the beautiful gates of pearl? 
Does he know when I am trying 
To be a good little girl ? 

" Does he know how our baby brother 
Has grown since he went away ? 
Can he hear what we are saying. 
And are doing every day ?" 

Up to my face the speaker 

Lifted her asking gaze, 
Trustfully waiting the answer, 

With eyes in a tearful haze. 



126 DEW-DROPS. 

Oh ! artless questions of childhood, 
Baffling the learned and wise, 

Out to the infinite reaching, 

Tho' couched in a simple guise. 

How freshly the words awakened 
Notes from an olden string — 

Not the child's but the woman's queries 
Could only an echo bring. 

Oh! with what aching and longing, 
What sorrowful, yearning pain, 

My heart has questioned the silence, 
Questioned, alas ! in vain. 

The lives so closely inwoven 
They seem a part of our own, 

We feel that the threads must mingle, 
Even when broken and gone. 

It seemeth a breath or a whisper 
Might move the curtain between, 

That veils with its quiet shadow 
The life and the world unseen. 



DEW-DROPS. 127 

I told my child the lesson, 

Learned in that long ago, 
To rest content with the knowledge 

Our Father would have us know. 

That not unto us is given, 

To fathom the life beyond ; 
No plummet line of mortal 

Can ever its vastness sound. 

Yet sweetly the thought will linger, 

As moonlight on the soul, 
As an unforbidden fancy 

We need not to control, 

That somewhere near us hovereth, 

Perchance, our loved and gone, 
With the spirit's viewless covering, 

And the shining raiment on. 

So I bid my daughter cherish 

The thought that our sainted one 
Might know when her course was blameless, 

Or her duty was left undone ; 



128 DEW-DROPS. 

That striving with earnest effort 
For the Christian graces here, 

Would have been to him when living 
A sacrifice most dear ; 

And to know an overcoming 
Of our natures day by day, 

Till we find in the great hereafter, 
The mists to be rolled away ; 

To walk as the light is given, 

In the trust that is born of faith ; 

And then will the beams of heaven 
Break thro' the clouds of death. 



TO THE MEMORY OF OUR BE- 
LOVED FRIEND L. W. S. 

(3K O D ' S ways are not as ours ! His will 
t$r In cloud and darkness worketh still : 

And all the powers of flesh and sense 

Before his great omnipotence 

Fade, like the feeble starry ray 

Within the sunlight's open day. 



DEW-DROPS. 129 

We little thought, dear friend of ours, 
So soon amid the Autumn flowers 
To lay thy wasted form away ; 
To gather round thy lifeless clay ; 
And feel, the land which welcome gave 
Thus early found for thee a grave. 

To our frail wisdom it had seemed, 
Such light around thy pathway gleamed, 
The world would long thy presence need, 
Refreshing both by word and deed, 
And breathing into every part 
The beauty of the pure in heart. 

All gracious elements of good 
Lived in thy tender womanhood ; 
A nameless charm, that young and old 
Drew to thee as by threads of gold ; 
An essence, which, distilled above, 
Drew forth our very hearts in love. 

We sorrow that thy smile no more 
Will greet us at the open door,— 
That in the quiet house of prayer 
We may not in thy travail share, 
Where we had felt thy spirit dwell 
A shining light in Israel ; 



130 DEW-DROPS. 

And for the dear ones of thy home, 
Unto whose mourning souls has come 
A loss no time can e'er restore, 
A shadow on each scene before ; 
The tears that earth may never stay 
Their God alone can wipe away. 

But over all our pain and loss, 
We see thy crown ; thy fallen cross ; 
Forever safe, forever blest — 
Redeemed, and entered into rest, 
Through faith in Him who gave to thee 
O'er death and grave the victory ; 
And who had been thy lifetime long 
The morning praise, the evening song. 



THE PATHWAY IN THE SKY. 

^p)H ROUGH the depths of a southern forest, 
^p> When night fell dark around, 
And the wood-bird's cry re-echoed 
With weird and mournful sound, 



DEW-DROPS. 131 

A woman traveller journeyed, 

With a feeling almost fear, 
As the gloom grew deeper, denser, 

And the path less marked and clear. 

The wind, like a sorrowful spirit, 

Moaned through the cypress boughs ; 
And the still, black pools of water 

The reptiles' plunges roused. 
The guide to the ground alighted, 

To search for the pathway lost, 
Where the creeping vines of the tropics 

The passage barred and crossed. 

But not where his feet were treading 

For a sign or mark he gazed, 
But up to the southern heaven, 

His seeking glance was raised. 
And the woman saw with wonder, 

And she questioned him to know 
Why he looked to the sky above him 

To discern the way below. 

"Oh! 'tis easy to see," he answered, 
" Where our course on earth may lie, 



132 DEW-DROPS. 

If I can but first discover 

The pathway in the sky." 
Thoughtful his words she pondered, 

As they passed the forest through, 
And a deeper meaning gathered. 

And a truer moral drew. 

Oft when our way seems darkened, 

With intricate meshes crossed, 
Baffled, perplexed, bewildered, 

The trail with its footprints lost, 
As we stand in the gloom and ponder 

Wherever our course may lie, 
Why seek we not above us 

For the pathway in the sky? 

Many our hours of doubting 

In the wilderness walk of life, 
The smallest duties that meet us 

Are oft with uncertainties rife. 
How the light would stream in clearness 

From the blessed Source on high, 
Were our eyes but glancing upward 

To the pathway in the sky. 



